


Play Date

by Katrine



Series: No Substep here [5]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blindfolds, Collars, Conditioning, Consent Issues, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Lingerie, M/M, Master/Pet, Mindfuck, Pegging, Petplay, Strap-Ons, Threesome, Training, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 05:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18067178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katrine/pseuds/Katrine
Summary: Sidestep has plans for his pet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sidestep in this fic uses He/Him pronouns. Topstep returns once again.

“Wake up, Ricardo,” you command as you pull him awake with a sharp tug on his leash. His eyes flutter open in the half-dark room, hair still rumpled and messy from last night's escapade. You smirk at the memory. That was fun all right. But today you have other plans for your pet; or rather, other plans for your amusement. It took some doing, seeing as you had to contact the most trustworthy of your associates, but what’s about to happen is going to be well worth it.

 

“What- what’s happening?” he mumbles, voice still husky from sleep. He half-heartedly reaches out a hand in your direction, a sleepy reflex. Cute.

 

“Oh, nothing you need to worry about,” you laugh, patting him on the head. “I just thought I should let my puppy out to play a bit, yeah?” The look he gives you is half anticipation, half fear. “Now, get up. Gotta get you ready for your playdate.”

 

He’s getting used to this by now, the rebellious acts he’d put on in the past mostly gone now. Reduced to token attempts at preserving his pride. You don’t mind , though, it’s rather cute. Just means you get to punish him more. Not that you dislike his obedience; it’s hard-won and all the sweeter for it. His training is really paying off. Subservience, as you’ve learnt, suits him very well indeed. 

 

Especially now, as you bring him into the bathroom to make him look presentable after last night’s fun: Obediently on all fours, following the sound of your steps on the marble floor. He seems to slump down a bit on the cold stone, eyes fighting to stay open. You click your tongue. That won’t do. 

 

“Ortega, baby, did I wear you out that much last night?” You lean against the sink, crossing your arms in a smooth action. Training your pet is hard work, but quite rewarding. You got that clicker on a whim, not quite sure if it would work, but you’re  _ so _ glad you made it a part of Ricardo’s training anyway. Fucking him while using the clicker. Making him associate the sound with pleasure. Conditioning him. Now a simple click is enough to make him breathe heavier. Make blood rush to his cock. Mixing it with obedience training was a natural next step. Like you did last night. That evening was a pleasant reminder you have an incredibly obedient puppy. He’s shaping up to be such a  _ good boy _ . With a sigh, you put away the memory. You’ve got things to do. And your pet is being awfully spacey.

 

“Ricardo!” you bark, hoping to wake him out of his stupor.

 

His head snaps up in attention, any hint of sleep chased out of his eyes.

 

“Y-yes, Master?”

 

“I’m gonna go find you clothes, yeah? Meanwhile, I want you to shave and clean yourself, pet,” you finish the sentence with a wink, only keeping eye-contact with him long enough to hear his muttered assent. He’s gotten good at grooming himself for you. 

 

Such a good pet.

 

Picking out his clothes for today isn’t more difficult than choosing a fitting collar (Designer-brand, of course; only the best for  _ your _ toy), and a pair of lacy underthings you know will fit him just right. Still, you take your time. Sleeping in means that he has a lot of grooming to catch up on. 

 

When you re-enter the bathroom, Ricardo is kneeling on the floor. He looks up at you, holding his breath. You cock your head to the side, the corner of your mouth tugging up as he squirms. His face is drawn into an anxious smile, eyes bright and hopeful. Though you can’t read his thoughts through the static of his mind, his anxious smile and bright eyes remind you of a puppy.  _ Please be happy with me. _

 

“I’m done, Master.” 

 

“Good boy,” you croon, delighting in the way he visibly stiffens. Starts to breathe heavier. Those words have become _ very _ loaded for him. 

 

“Now, what do we say to that, sleepyhead?” 

 

“Th...Thank you, master,” he moans, voice already shaky. He’s done a good job cleaning up, his body freshly washed and hairless. Moving in front of him, you pet him gently on the head before affixing the new collar and helping him into his lingerie, ever mindful not to heat him up. You don’t want to ruin his efforts. Not yet, anyway. A small chuckle escapes your mouth. Your pet’s got socializing to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ortega's POV

The floor is cold. That’s the first thing you notice. Master is standing in front of you, tapping a boot-clad foot into the marble floor. Waiting for you to get your bearings. A shiver runs down your spine as you look around the spacious hallway. On all fours as you are, it’s difficult to see all the details and you blink at the new room. The high walls are made of cold, polished steel with a monochrome colour palette, and as you crane your neck up, you glimpse the chandelier bathing the space in light. You lower your head, curling in on yourself a bit. Breathing becomes difficult. It’s been a long time since Master let you leave your room. Wait, when did master last take you out of your room?

 

Your hands feel clammy. You- you can’t remember.

 

“Calm down, pet,” your Master says, voice flat. You look up at him, unfurling your fists. His lips are thin, brows drawn together. Annoyed. Trying to will your shaking to stop, you force your lips into a hesitant grin.

 

“Sorry, Master. I was just- just a bit surprised,” you say, hoping the smile reaches your eyes. You don’t want to let Master down.

 

He gives you an inscrutable look, making you shift in place. The marble really is chilly. Of course, your only piece of clothing are the lace panties Master chose, so that isn’t strange. Master clicks his tongue and turns around.

 

“C’mon, Ricardo. We’re keeping ‘em waiting.”

 

Keeping who waiting? 

 

He doesn’t give you time to muse on that, however, walking off at a brisk pace. The tug on the collars starts to choke you, forcing you into action. You pass through an impersonal labyrinth of hallways, the clack of Master’s boots on the marble the only sound to break the eerie silence. 

 

Master stops at a large wooden door, lit with a twin pair of dim lamps on either side. The change in appearance distracts you, and your head bump into his legs. You blink, confused. You seem to have reached your destination. He just looks down at you before his face scrunches up with laughter.

 

“You are really spacey right now, aren’t you?” he chuckles, a fond smile on his lips. He reaches out an elegant hand, lifting up your chin with one finger. You meet his eyes, and stiffen when you see the ice-blue death there.

 

His smile has too many teeth. 

 

“Wonder how long that will last,” he muses, tone flat.

 

You shiver.

 

Then, his eyes soften, filling with warmth, smile relaxing. He turns to open the door, letting out a cheery greeting. The light from the room makes your eyes water. Trying to focus, you see a... group of suit-clad figures? You hear a rustle of cloth; see Master leaning down towards you. Then, darkness. 

 

“Mas-” you make a choked sound as you’re lifted up by your collar, hands flying to your throat. Your heart is hammering in your chest, lungs fighting to breathe for a few seconds. You’re yanked forwards a few steps, moving from marble to plush carpeting. The new room is quiet, but you feel a sinking feeling in your chest. There are other people here. You hear a metallic click, and the cold air of the hallways disappears. Your body feels distant. 

 

With a tug, you’re pulled forward, stumbling a few steps. Your body feels weak, and you don’t know if it’s you or the room that’s spinning. Knees buckling, you try to brace yourself on the carpet. Master. Where is Master.

 

Behind you, you hear a snort. 

 

“Have fun with ‘im. It’s a playdate, after all.” 

 

“Master?” you whisper, trying to turn around at the sound of footsteps. But then, you feel something on your neck. A hand. Calloused.

 

Unfamiliar. 

 

A weak sound escapes your mouth.

 

“Boss said we could do whatever, yeah?” says the stranger, rough voice distinctly amused as they tug at your collar. Cold. You feel cold.

 

“Within the bounds of polite behaviour, yes,” chides another voice. A choir of chuckles follow the second person’s words. Your hands won’t stop shaking. The person holding your collar loops a few fingers under it, forcing you to shuffle after them as they move. When they drop you, you end up splayed gracelessly on the soft floor, gasping for air. You don’t understand. Where is Master?

 

“Boss’s pet really is pretty, ain't he? With lacy underthings and everything,” sniggers a voice on your left. You recognize it. The one who touched your collar. 

 

“A bit too scarred for my taste. Not entirely bad-looking, though. Maybe better on his knees?” another one suggests to an outburst of raucous laughter. They’re all talking over you. About you. Where did Master go? You try to lift your head, lips quivering. Someone is speaking. You don’t hear it. Trying to calm your breathing. Master would never hurt you, right? 

 

( _ Didn’t he already? _ )

 

Hands are touching you. Tugging at your leash, forcing you back on all fours. Your neck feels warm. Wet. You try blinking. Still darkness. You shiver as the hands glide over your body, your hair, your back. Touch. You like the touch. But it doesn’t feel like Master. 

 

Then, you feel a pair of soft hands cupping your ass. Grasping your underwear. Pulling it down. You jolt. 

 

“W-what?” you squeal, voice too high, turning your head. Someone grabs a fistful of your hair, forcing it forward.

 

“Be a good pet, now,” they say, sounding nearly giddy. You recognize the harsh voice despite their tone, it’s the person who tugged on your collar. “Open your mouth.”

 

You follow their order without thinking, and nearly gag when a cock is thrust into your mouth. Too much too fast, it’s a relief when they don’t start to move at once. You try to swallow around them, breathe through your nose. Somebody is talking. Jeering. There’s a hand on your flank, steadying you. A lubed finger at your rim. Pushing in.

 

“Relax, big boy,” says the second voice from earlier, their voice smooth. You try to untense your muscles. Everything feels slow. They add more fingers. More lube. The person with their cock in your mouth seems content to thrust slowly, letting you get used to it. You feel heat stirring in your stomach.

 

They tell you to use your tongue. Swirling it carefully around their shaft, you feel a brief flash of pleasure as they  groan. Grips your hair harder. Relents when somebody reminds them not to damage the property. Comments on how slutty the pet looks.

 

You feel like a toy.

 

“How long do you need to prepare him?” the first voice says, tone strained. You hear an annoyed huff, the fingers in your ass retreating. 

 

“Don’t be so impatient. I was about done, jackass,” the person behind you reply, voice dry. They rummage a bit, and you hear a wet sound. Then they grab your hips. You still. Stop moving your tongue. None of the other voices are talking.  

 

“Think he can take it in one?” 

 

A rougher voice replies.

 

“Probably? Why the hell not.”

 

Your nose flares as you realize what’s about to happen. Hastily trying to relax. It helps. A little. Still, taking the entire dildo at once has you screaming around the length in your mouth. You’re shaking. Your forehead feels sticky. When they start to move, thrusting shallowly at first, the one in front of you starts moving too. The other voices hoot and whistle, and the abundance of voices is jarring. Did Master leave you?

 

A sudden flash of heat distracts you. Whoever is using the strap-on is good. Almost as good as Master. You whine, and hear a pleased chuckle as they continue ramming the spot. You’re pushed back and forth between the two people, alternatingly gagging on the cock and moaning around it. Electricity keeps shooting down your spine, making you aware of your weeping cock. The pressure feels overwhelming. You want to cum. But Master. You need permission. 

 

“Please,” you try to mumble around the thick cock. Begging. Nearly sobbing as they keep hitting your prostate, the pressure on your dick almost painful. You’re shaking. Drooling. You’re going to cum. But Master-

 

You feel a familiar hand on your shoulder. Gentle. Firm. 

 

The cock in your mouth is withdrawn, and you try to blink away the tears building in your eyes. The dildo is removed with an outward thrust. The hand in your hair is gone.

 

“Master!” 

 

You’re so happy. 

 

He chuckles, the sound warm and rich. He makes you feel so safe. Master makes you feel so safe.

 

“Wanna cum, Ricardo?” he says, voice light.

 

“Yes, Master! Please let me cum, Master!” you reply, doing your best to give a winning smile. You can’t see him, but Master likes it when you’re being a good pet. 

 

“ _ Good boy _ ,” he whispers, mouth next to your ear.

 

You shudder. 

 

Gasp.

 

Eyes rolling back in your head, your orgasm leaves you shaking and whimpering. You vaguely realize you’re rambling, thanking Master for not leaving you, for letting you come. His hand is in your hair, soothing you. Petting you. Your heart swells at the attention. Makes you lean into his touch. Warm. Soft. 

 

“You did so, so well.”

 

He kisses your forehead, just over the fabric of the blindfold.

 

“I may have to let you out to play more often,  _ pet _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again, Luka, for betaing my fic<3
> 
> They can be found on tumblr as awkward-screeching.


End file.
